Mr Brightside
by snarkmcsnark
Summary: Stephanie McMahon is always in control in all her roles as business woman, mother, wife, and mistress. Engaging in an affair with Randy Orton is exciting, passionate, and seemingly undetected, until her husband's estranged daughter enters the picture. She is everything Stephanie isn't; and she is everything Randy wants.
1. Chapter 1

**Mr. Brightside**

**Summary: Stephanie McMahon is always in control in all her roles as business woman, mother, wife, and mistress. Engaging in an affair with Randy Orton is exciting, passionate, and seemingly undetected, until her husband's estranged daughter enters the picture. She is everything Stephanie isn't; and she is everything Randy wants. **

* * *

_It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss. It was only a kiss._

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Inhale the bliss and validation and follow it with an exhale of the lies and betrayal. It wasn't anything different to how they normally ended their trysts. She would be gathering her clothes – crisp shirt, pencil skirt, and sky-high stilettos. The red lipstick would whip out of her purse to hide the fact that her lips were raw from kissing and sucking him off. Smoothing her fingers through those long locks, she looked every bit the same as she had arrived except now she was satiated.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Randy Orton flicked open a pack of Marlboro Lights and nestled one between his teeth.

"You should stop that. It's a terrible habit."

"You sound like your husband."

Glaring at him, she took the lighter from the bedside table and pushed the flame towards the stick. She hated when he brought up her husband. She already felt guilty about tarnishing their wedding vows; she didn't need her lover to kill the mood. Randy took one long drag as he ran his eyes over every explored curve of her body. He could still go another round or two, but it was getting late.

She began to turn on her heel, but stopped. She plucked the cigarette from his lips and took a drag. Her lungs wanted to resist the smoke and nicotine, but her mind willed her to surge ahead. Randy raised his brow. She was always trying to be every bit different with him than she was around the man she married and the father of her three little angels. Returning the cigarette, she gave him a small smirk before walking towards the door.

"Sweet dreams, Stephanie."

* * *

Sitting against the headboard, Randy stared at the dimly lit Victorian wallpaper of his hotel room. The red stain of her lipstick was still visible on his cigarette. He imagined what it was like for her to walk out of his hotel room. What was she thinking as the elevator rose those three floors to their suite? Would Paul fall for that lie about having drinks with the girls? He knew she would sleep beside him and nestle in his arms, but would she fuck him?

It must have been exhausting to be Stephanie McMahon.

Maybe their sex was really just that good that she was willing to risk her marriage and reputation. Randy shook his head; he doubted that. He knew a time when Paul and Stephanie were in deep marital bliss to the point where they were unashamed to flaunt their healthy sex life. Paul wasn't the problem here.

Randy always had an attraction for Stephanie. Who wouldn't? She was smart, independent, beautiful, and downright sexy. But when he came in and joined Evolution at 23, she was already engaged to Paul, his mentor and the one guy who trusted him and pushed him to the top of the company. It was Paul who primed him for success, and it was Paul who believed in him even when he was dicking around, getting into drugs, and nearly getting sued for sexual harassment. Over the years, he learned and respected that Stephanie was someone he could look at but never touch, and he was fine with that.

He was fine with all of that until the after party for Wrestlemania 29. He had just finished a triple threat tag team match against The Shield, where his team was slated to lose. He had nothing to gain from the match and he was fine with that. He was also fine that his wife, Sam, had moved out and she didn't even come back running when he slapped her with divorce papers. He thought she'd come back to him for the money, and she could continue playing the doting wife in St. Louis while he slept with numerous women on the road. But Sam had more of a backbone than he originally thought. She was through with him – and he grew to be fine with that. He was fucking fine with fucking everything.

Recalling that fateful night, the whole roster was all decked out in their suits and gowns for a celebratory after party. Randy was nursing a scotch in his hands when the company's power couple strolled in. She was wearing this red, satin, floor-length dress with her back completely exposed. Diamonds dripped down her neck, falling and disappearing somewhere in the depths of her ample cleavage. His mouth ran dry.

He tried his best to avoid looking at her, so he wouldn't picture himself running his tongue along her spine, biting down on that exposed shoulder, fucking her with nothing on but those diamonds. "Everything ok, man?" Cena asked, noticing the dazed and distracted look on his friend's face. Randy remembered excusing himself and stumbling out the doors. He couldn't stand another second in that room; he needed release.

Walking across the lobby to the elevator, he pressed the arrow up and waited impatiently until the doors opened. Stepping inside, he situated himself against the handrail, tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He could hear the wheels on the door closing before stopping unexpectedly. His eyes flew open to see a hand adorned with a diamond ring halting the doors.

She stepped in – red dress, diamonds, and everything – and he was _fine_ with that.

They stood in silence. Randy believing she was headed up to her floor. This was only pure circumstance, he thought. When he stepped out, she followed, ignoring that her suite with Paul was still a few floors up. He turned on his heel and faced her, causing her to gasp and stumble back. His hand wrapped around her waist, catching her. His fingertips were on fire as they splayed across the small of her back.

Stephanie composed herself and regained her footing, which wasn't so easy on 5-inch Louboutins. She took the keycard from his hand and slid it through the lock. Green light flashed and she pushed the door open. Completely unaware of what was happening, Randy followed her inside, making sure no one was in the hallway to see and misconstrue the situation.

The tungsten from the bedside lamps cast a glow over her supple and toned body. The diamonds dripping on her chest sparkled and bounced off his baby blues. She stood tall with her hands on her hips; her eyes firmly locked on his.

"I know you want me, Randy."

His jaw tightened. He felt like he had just swallowed his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about, Steph."

"Don't lie to me. You might be able to lie about a lot of things, but you're not very good about hiding how much you want me. I know hearing me tell you this is making you hard."

He balled his fists, willing his brain to take control of the situation rather than the blood rushing down to his groin. "Even if I did want you," he gulped, "I wouldn't act on it."

"What if I wanted you to?" She murmured, pushing the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

"What about Paul? Your daughters?" He ran his hand through his short hair, rubbing the back of his head. T_his was not happening_, he repeated to himself.

"I'm a woman who prides herself in being the best at everything she does. I'm an excellent wife, mother, and career woman. But I'm also a woman who prides herself in getting what she wants, and I want you."

Stephanie slipped the dress down her torso; her enormous tits spilling right out. He swallowed hard as he forced himself with all his willpower to turn away. He wanted nothing more than to cup them in his hands, twist her hard nipples between his fingers, and lay his hard, throbbing dick between those soft pillows.

She reached down and brought his hands to her chest. His palm hardened as he felt the soft curve of her breast. He tried to pull away but she was firm on her grasp. "Tell me you want this."

"I…" he began, unable to lie to her. It was futile. She already knew.

"I know you've wanted me for years," She began, running his hand down the cavern of her sternum then her cleavage. "This is your chance to fulfill those desires."

He drew both of his hands and rested them on her full hips. "And Paul will never know?"

Her eyes fluttered open, a sly smirk gracing her glossed lips, "It will be our little secret."

_But she's touching his chest now. She takes off her dress now. Let me go._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Stephanie McMahon is always in control in all her roles as business woman, mother, wife, and mistress. Engaging in an affair with Randy Orton is exciting, passionate, and seemingly undetected, until her husband's estranged daughter enters the picture. She is everything Stephanie isn't; and she is everything Randy wants.**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait before the update. I've been stressing with real life commitments, but I have been thinking about this story and Swan in the Water all-the-freaking-time. I wish I could just record my thoughts on how this story will pan out and it'll magically translate itself into passable prose. Anyway, before I bore you any further with my sad, old excuses, I present chapter 2. As always, read, enjoy, and review!**

* * *

White cinder blocks bordered every twist and turn of the arena. The footfalls of her flat sandals were inaudible against the concrete halls, but each step was all she could focus on amidst all the chaos surrounding her. Men and women darted around in their black shirts with an emblazoned W on the left chest. _Entrance B, end of the hall, then turn to your left, second right, and the fourth door to your left._ Those were her instructions – precise and methodical.

His voice was familiar and excited with a hint of apprehension. She had a feeling she sounded the same from his end too. Now, with every step she took she was getting closer to seeing him again for the first time in three years.

It was springtime in Maui, when she last saw him. He was in the crowd for her college graduation. He applauded like any proud father would; he stayed for pictures after the ceremony. For reasons she had grown to understand he couldn't stay for the after party. Her father made the trip out to Hawaii and flew back out to the mainland within 24 hours just so he could see her march and make it back for a show in Seattle. She knew he was a busy man, so she appreciated that he took the time out to see her anyway.

Growing up in Hawaii, Emilia Levesque lived for the sun and the surf. Accustomed to a laidback lifestyle, she spent her mornings walking down the beach to catch the waves before she had to head into school. Once she realized she'd never be skilled enough to compete with the pros, Emilia found art. She loved drawing and painting more than anything, eventually ending up as a freelance graphic designer for local surf brands. She got to design ads for competitions and create custom boards for some of her favorite surfers. The best part of her job was being able to stay close to home. She could wake up in the wee hours of the morning, drive her yellow Jeep down the coast, and catch the waves before she headed back to the house to work. She loved the lifestyle and hated having to leave, but she knew she was left no choice.

Navigating through the halls, she finally arrived at his door. Emilia pressed her knuckles against the surface and knocked. The door flew open.

"Emilia!" Stephanie McMahon beamed from ear to ear, stepping forward to embrace the girl who appeared at the doorway. Pulling away, she held her husband's first daughter at arm's length and smiled at how much she had changed since the last time she'd seen her. Stephanie had always known about Emilia, so there were never any secrets or any resentment between stepmother and stepdaughter. In fact, Stephanie wished that Emilia lived closer so she could spend more time with her father and her three half-sisters.

Stephanie ushered her further inside the locker room, where Emilia met the eyes of her father. He had cropped his hair and he looked less like a Viking pro-wrestler than he did before. In fact, dressed in his crisp button-down and tie, he looked so much more like a normal dad.

Paul walked towards his daughter and wrapped his strong arms around her slim body. It always surprised him how small she felt in his arms; he remembered how he always asked her mother if she was adequately feeding their daughter. Someone as tiny as her could easily be knocked down by a stampede of muscled men in tights. It was probably why Paul was hesitant to take her backstage in the first place. He planted a long kiss on her forehead. "I missed you so much."

"Missed you too, dad," she replied, looking up at him with those bright green eyes.

Stephanie began to grab her belongings and head towards the door, "I'm going to leave you two to catch up."

Paul and Emilia watched as the door closed behind the brunette. Normally, Stephanie stuck around and encouraged them both to talk. She knew how much building a relationship with Emilia meant to Paul, and likewise, how difficult it was for him to open up to her in fear of overstepping boundaries. Paul was apprehensive because he understood, from knowing other fathers bound to demanding schedules, that there might be some bitterness in his relationship with his daughter. He just didn't want to risk saying or doing anything that might bring that out of Emilia. Stephanie argued that his cautious and detached nature was actually causing a greater rift.

"Steph busy?" Emilia asked, turning to her father.

Paul glanced at the silver wristwatch, noting the show wasn't to start for another hour. Stephanie was such a workaholic that he didn't give her sudden departure a second thought. His wife was always finding things to keep herself busy, and besides him and their three little girls, Stephanie's job was her life.

* * *

Her stilettos clicked against the concrete much too loud for her liking. If she was trying to detract attention and do this as surreptitiously as possible, she had to be more mindful of her shoe choice next time. She found the door with his name on it and turned every direction of the hallway. Certain that no one was in her line of sight, she charged into the room without even the courtesy of a knock.

Randy lifted his head to meet her burning stare. Some days he didn't know if she wanted to kill him or fuck him or both. Stephanie found him sat on a bench as he taped his wrists for tonight's show. Dressed in nothing but a pair of track pants, looked just about ready devour. Sure, he was less clothed in the ring, but there was something so refreshing about seeing her lover in street clothes.

Stephanie reached behind her to turn the lock. Patting his thigh, Randy licked his lips as he watched her walk towards him and sit on his lap.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned back and stroked the short hairs on his head. Little moments like this made her question whether or not it was purely just sex with him. Not wanting to think about the emotional aspects of her infidelity any further, she dipped her head low to press her eager lips on his. He spread his fingers against her back as he slipped his tongue between her teeth.

They continued to kiss like teenagers hiding from their parents. A rumble from her throat escaped as he flicked his tongue against hers. His large hands deftly unbuttoned her silk blouse. He caught a whiff of her arresting fragrance – Gucci Guilty. He always thought the daring and sexy perfume had a fitting name.

Slipping her blouse off her shoulders, he leaned her back against his forearms so he could marvel at her body. He'd take this scene over an ocean view any day.

Her chest was heaving and straining for release beneath the lacy black La Perla. He licked his lips as he noticed the little pearl clasped at the front. Shaking her head, Stephanie grinned as she straddled his lap. He reached between their bodies to begin unbuttoning her trousers. One flick of his finger was all it took for the material to fall from her hips. Randy trailed his hands from her navel further south, watching her blue eyes widen as his thumbs lingered over her pubic bone.

Stephanie stood up and pulled the navy slacks off her legs. Randy followed suit, forcing her to turn around as her knees brushed against the edge of the bench. His hands trailed from her stomach, rising up to her chest and neck. He pulled her head to the side as he trailed kiss after searing kiss along her jaw. Ending his tantalizing tease with the press of his lips at the apex of her spine.

His fingers traced the curve of her bosom, stopping their movements at contact with the pearl. In one swift motion, he released her out of her lace restraints.

Her soft tits begged for his touch. Her hardened peaks pleaded for his fingers to nip and squeeze. Stephanie moaned his name as she pressed her ass on his hardened length. As his thumb swirled over her nipple, his free hand trickled down her torso until he felt the heat from her waiting core. Pressing against her flesh, Randy smirked as he earned a guttural groan from his lover.

Reaching around her, she pulled his head to meet her halfway. She kissed him hard and hungry. As he sucked on her bottom lip, his thumb pressed on her spot. She quivered into the kiss, pounding her ass further into his groin. "Fuck me," she rasped.

Knowing they were pressed for time, Randy pulled down her slutty thong down her knees. Without a second to breathe, he slammed into her from behind. She gasped before she bit down on her lip to keep herself from screaming his name. Randy knew she was close from the sheer volume of her moans. He was risking her ire, but he covered her mouth with his palm. She bit into his hand as she rolled her hips. "Fuck," he cursed from the sensation of her teeth scratching through his skin. Instinctively, he thrust at a harder and deeper pace. He bent her over the bench, her massive tits falling over the other side.

He wrung his fists around her deep chocolate locks as he took her from a different angle. Her knees buckled and he had to pull her hair to keep himself inside her. "Fuck me," she muttered through gritted teeth.

He obliged; grasping at her hips before thrusting into her velvet walls. Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as her body shivered in ecstasy. Tightening around him, her walls embraced her lover until he, too, was spent.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Randy sat back on the bench and cast Stephanie a questioning look. By now, she would have been collecting her things, smoothing out her clothes, and ridding herself of all evidence of infidelity. Instead, her clothes remained on the floor while she sat across him with one leg crossed over the other.

"The show's starting soon. Won't Paul be looking for you?"

"Paul will be preoccupied for a while," Stephanie paused, "Emilia came down to see him."

"Emilia?" he wondered as the name sounded strangely familiar, "Emilia… his kid?"

Stephanie smiled, "Yes, although she's no longer the kid you remember. She turned 24 earlier this year."

"Fuck, I'm old," he chuckled, remembering meeting Paul's daughter at his wedding over a decade ago. He had seen Emilia maybe twice since, but probably not in the last seven or eight years. Randy knew Paul was protective of her, and he didn't exactly want to advertise that he had a child before he ever met Stephanie. He tried to remember what the young girl was like but his memories of her were vague. She was just a kid – calm and carefree – the furthest thing from her father's personality. "How is Emilia?"

Stephanie sighed. As much as she cared for the girl, she didn't really want to use up her time with Randy to talk about her circumstances and why they had brought her here. "She's all right," she replied simply. Stephanie ruffled her brunette locks, making her appear sexier than she already did. "She's staying with us indefinitely," she added, "Paul will be helping her get on her feet so she might take on some odd jobs for the company in the mean time."

Randy nodded. "That's good. It gives Paul a chance to know his kid."

"Paul knows Emilia very well," she replied defensively.

"You know what I meant," Randy mumbled back. He stood up and began to slip on his track pants.

"What are you doing?" Stephanie shot up, uncrossing her legs. Randy's eyes fell to see the glistening sheen between her legs. "Who said I was done with you?"

* * *

Emilia watched from backstage as her father took on his character in the ring. Along with the members of Evolution, he was going on a tirade on the hottest faction in the WWE right now, The Shield. She watched intently, admiring her father for being able to express that kind of emotion and resentment that earned exactly what he required from the booing crowd.

Recognizing the men that stood beside him, Emilia recalled meeting them over ten years ago. Dave was quiet, protective, and a sweetheart below that tough exterior. He also became a father at a young age, so he had a lot of advice for Paul; likewise, the fact that he had daughters made Emilia warm up to him quickly. The other man beside her father was Randy Orton. She remembered him being loud, obnoxious, arrogant, and extremely entitled. In spite of his personality, 13 year-old Emilia thought he was the hottest man alive.

She shook her head, smiling at the teenage crush on Orton. Life was so much simpler then. She had all these harmless crushes on her dad's co-workers. None of it meant anything. Truth be told, she never even had a boyfriend until senior year of high school when she met Ben. They were together for almost six years , moved in together, and planned out a life together. That was until Ben got into the wrong crowd and got mixed up in the drug culture in Maui. In the beginning, she wanted to save him but when he was way in over his head, Emilia tried to leave him for her own safety.

The operative word being '_tried_'.

Ben owed a lot of people and it wasn't a secret that the most precious thing in his life, besides that next hit of heroin, was Emilia. It started with cryptic emails, then it turned to these large men with guns following her every move. One night, they had broken into her house and stolen her valuables. Even when the police finally believed her and knew she wasn't just being paranoid about the local gang threatening her, they couldn't even guarantee that she would be safe. The gangs were far too powerful now, and the only thing she could do was get off the island.

"Excuse me," said a man dressed in a black flak jacket and cargo pants.

Emilia realized she was blocking their path and moved aside, "I'm sorry," she smiled at him.

"No problem," he extended his hand out, "I'm Colby Lopez, by the way. I don't think we've met."

She slipped her hand in his and shook it, "Emilia Levesque."

"You related to Paul?" interrupted the man with slicked back blond hair.

"Yeah, I'm his daughter."

"What?" the three men said with a confused and bewildered expression on their faces. "You can't be Steph's kid…" said Colby.

"I'm not," Emilia chuckled as she cleared up the confusion, "My dad had me when he was just starting in the business… long before he met Steph."

"Guys, we need y'all at gorilla!" yelled out a stagehand. The three men waved their goodbyes as they disappeared behind a black curtain. Within minutes, the men in flak jackets had joined Evolution in the ring. They were pummeling each other; Colby, in particular was driving a balled fist right at her father's skull. She knew they were professionals, but the sight still made her grimace.

"Don't worry, it doesn't hurt him," she heard as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder. She looked up and realized it was Stephanie.

"I know, but it looks so convincing," she grimaced again as she watched one of the men drive her father's sledgehammer to his gut. She knew it was his job and she had seen him do it numerous times, but the brawl in the ring didn't look that much different to seeing a gang of men beat Ben into a bloody pulp.

Meanwhile, Randy was trying to get up only to have his head driven back down to the mat. Stephanie turned her neck and gritted her teeth as Randy's head bounced hard off the apron.

"See," Emilia pointed out, "even you're convinced."

* * *

The two women waited just outside of gorilla as the three men of Evolution walked up the ramp. The members of The Shield were celebrating in the ring, getting the crowd riled up for a celebratory end to RAW. Paul made his way past the curtain first followed by Dave and Randy. Paul wrapped his arm around his wife's waist and smiled at his daughter, "Enjoyed the show?"

"Yeah," she replied, feeling a lot more comforted that they all came back without a scratch.

"Anyway, I don't know if you remember Dave and Randy," Paul motioned to the two men behind him. Immediately her eyes fell on Randy. He was a lot taller than she remembered. He had that trimmed beard on his face that made him look a lot more mature, and a lot less like the cocky legend killer from years ago.

She smiled at them, Dave reaching forward to give her a hug. "You've grown so much, kiddo."

"Well, ten years will do that to you," she giggled, "How are your girls?"

"Keilani and Athena are doing well. Lani is working in D.C. and Athena's up in Michigan for college," he updated, just then his assistant came up, telling him one of the producers for Guardians of the Galaxy was on the phone for him. Dave excused himself, leaving their group.

Randy walked up to her and placed his hand over his mouth. He shook his head and couldn't help but grin. "Emilia, you've certainly grown up."

"And you've gotten skinnier," she smirked.

"Eh, wellness policies," he jibed knowing full well that Paul and Stephanie were right there within earshot.

"Paul," said Stephanie as she turned to her husband, "I'm sure Emilia's starving. Let's head out to dinner."

Paul agreed, nodding his head. He placed his free arm around his daughter's waist and took notice when Randy's eyes ran over his daughter's body. "Gym. Tomorrow morning at seven," he said simply before turning away with both girls.

Randy watched as the Levesques walked down the hall. He couldn't believe his eyes when he learned this was the same Emilia who had her nose buried in a sketchpad. She was always drawing anything that had to do with Hawaii whether it was the surf, the marine life, the lush forests, or the people she said she loved. He smiled at the recollection. She was such a thoughtful kid. His mind drifted back to another memory. It was Paul and Stephanie's wedding and he had swiped the bride and groom's reserved champagne bottle. He remembered when her eyes locked on his; he placed his finger to his lips, asking her to keep it a secret. All these years, the missing $4000 bottle of champagne was still a mystery and a bone of contention between the married couple, yet Emilia had never told on him.

He watched her figure disappear down the hall. Blonde hair, tanned skin, modest curves, and an innocent face - she was definitely not the same blood as the McMahon beside her. His eyes lingered the length of her long legs, ending just above the curve of her ass under those contrasting white shorts. Something about Emilia was refreshing. He didn't know if it was the freckles across her nose or that shy smile she gave him when he walked through the curtain; all he knew was he was going to be in deep shit with Stephanie.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: Stephanie McMahon is always in control in all her roles as business woman, mother, wife, and mistress. Engaging in an affair with Randy Orton is exciting, passionate, and seemingly undetected, until her husband's estranged daughter enters the picture. She is everything Stephanie isn't; and she is everything Randy wants.**

**AN: First, I want to apologize for taking so long to update. Life has gotten so much busier since I've started a new job. Every time I have a moment to write, I've just felt so drained and uninspired. I do want to say thank you to those who have taken the time to review Chapter 2. Bella315, Sinistergateslegend, and especially PlayTheGame (really loved reading your comments). I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Read, enjoy, and review!**

* * *

The duffel bag bounced off his hip as he flew through the six flights of stairs. Might as well get his heart rate pumping before the actual workout, he thought. A signature Pantera screech drummed against his ears. Skipping the last two steps, his size thirteens landed squarely on ground.

Paul had no tolerance for tardiness. It was twenty after seven and Randy was still missing in action. No matter how much shit he gave the kid about his lack of punctuality, Randy never seemed to care. Just as Paul considered marching upstairs and waking him up himself, the gym doors burst open.

A sheepish grin plastered itself over the younger man's face. "Hey." Randy pulled the buds from his ears, walking towards Paul. He reached out his arm to give the man a friendly handshake but his companion merely returned with an icy glare.

"You're late."

"Jesus," he groaned, "who the fuck cares?"

"I do," Paul replied, "I told you to be here at seven sharp and –"

"It's disrespectful and shows how little I value the opportunity of being the face of the WWE, blah, blah, blah," he rolled his eyes. "Give me a fucking break. Why such sour grapes this morning?"

Randy wondered if Paul and Stephanie had fought, and that was the reason his boss seemed even more pissed off than usual. Even before their affair started, cracks were showing in their seemingly perfect marriage. The couple was needlessly involved in every aspect of the business. They were both control freaks that were highly mistrusting of their staff to get things done in their highly specific, meticulous ways. Besides spending every waking moment micromanaging the company, Paul and Stephanie were duking it out over whom their children loved more. They were the most competitive parents Randy had ever encountered. Sure, they frequently relished in being more successful and more attractive than the other parents in the PTA; but they were most competitive with each other. Spending lavish gifts on their girls and collecting 'I love you's from their girls – it was all a game. He didn't doubt that Paul and Stephanie truly loved their daughters, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the girls grew up spoiled and competitive with each other.

He didn't dare say a thing. Randy knew they would have his head on a guillotine if he so much as made a comment on their parenting.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Paul bit harshly. He pushed Randy towards the bench press. The top superstar pressed his back on the bench and pushed up on the metal bar. His muscles strained and flexed with every added weight to each side. "I wanted to talk to you about Emilia."

Randy halted his movements and placed the weights in their stationary position. "Keep going," Paul ordered. The younger man grunted as he pushed it off his chest.

"I'm not blind. I saw the way you looked at my kid last night. I've known you long enough to know what kind of sick thoughts are stirring in your head when you have that look."

"What look?"

"Don't even start with me, Randy," Paul began, "I want to make it clear that Emilia is off-limits."

"Got it, chief."

Paul gave him one hard look before adding another twenty pounds to each side. Randy swallowed hard. When he was screwing around with drugs and trashing hotel rooms, Paul vouched for him and he managed to skirt the three-strike policy. Somehow, he knew that screwing his kid was going to do the opposite of earn his mentor's support. It was bad enough that he was fucking Stephanie; he would have a death wish if he even so thought of flirting with Emilia.

But Randy was a natural risk-taker to the point of being self-destructive. Reason would tell him to stop, but he wasn't really a fan of that nagging voice inside his head. In fact, his mentor's warning had only served to excite that part of his brain that relished in debauchery. A small smirk played on his lips as he thought of pursuing Emilia. Her father should have known better than to tell him what he couldn't do.

Because he was going to do it anyway.

* * *

Smackdown tapings were on that night. The bus had parked in a new city with hundreds of screaming fans lined up against the barricade. He watched the scene play out before him through tinted windows. Randy hopped off his bus and waved at the direction of a group of earsplitting teenage girls. They had signs about him killing ovaries – classic, he thought to himself. Those girls were crazy, but by god, did he love them.

He made his way through the back doors of the arena, giving the fans another final wave before his figure disappeared behind the metal doors. Navigating through new arenas was always like playing Indiana Jones looking for some sacred artifact. One had to be adept at dodging crew members lugging around giant crates. One had to be tall enough so seven-foot giants wouldn't step on you. He was fortunate enough that people dispersed like the Red Sea when he was walking down the halls. He was greeted politely – rather nervously – but politely nonetheless.

Some people would actually just look at the ground and not say a word. He actually preferred that. Randy wasn't into small talk. He wasn't into dealing with people he didn't give two shits about. He knew he wasn't the friendliest guy in the locker room, but the few friends that he did have, he would fight to hell and high water for. Strangely enough, his two best friends, John Cena and Cody Rhodes were two of the friendliest and most sociable guys in the locker room. Like Paul, they were quick to defend his attitude and temper. Still, a lot of the guys in the back were skeptical and knew it was probably in their best interest to lay low whenever Randy was around.

Randy was a recluse and a hermit at heart. Part of the reason he bought a bus was so he could get his much-needed alone time so he wouldn't have to deal with people. Being trapped in a sedan with three other men talking about tits and ass and video games – that was his worst nightmare. He suffered through it for years; thankfully, his sacrifices paid off.

Turning the corner to the men's locker rooms, he stopped in his tracks as his eyes focused on his newfound target. She was sat on a crate and her back was turned, but he knew it was her from the loose side braid, the bohemian white dress, and the brown leather sandals. She had a paint-stained bag next to her with brushes and pens sticking out the sides.

"Emilia."

Her head whipped around, her eyes wide and sparkling. She smiled at him, setting her pencil down. "Hey, Randy."

"What's up?" He knew he wasn't much for small talk, but he'd suffer through it. After all, sacrifices pay off.

She shook her head, "Not much, just working on some designs while waiting for my dad," she pointed to the room across the hall.

"Cool," he mumbled uneasily, "what designs are you working on?"

She flipped the page over and showed him several sketches of women in bikinis. "A friend of mine owns a boutique and she asked me to send in some ideas so she could put them on production for her summer collection. I was going for a tropical jungle theme, but I don't know -"

"They're really good," he remarked, tracing his finger over her sketch, "I don't really know much about women's fashion but I'm really digging this one," he said, pointing to a bikini with a snakeskin design.

"I figured you'd like that," she smirked.

"So are you going to be working on this when you head back to Hawaii?"

Emilia pursed her lips as she closed the sketchpad on her lap. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't even know if I'm going back anytime soon." She left it at that and from the distant look on her face, Randy knew she wasn't ready to talk about it.

"Hey, if you need someone to talk to you know I'm here," he said comfortingly.

Emilia gave him a genuine smile and he swore he felt something thump beneath his chest. Before he could walk away, she called his name, "Randy, are you going out tonight… I mean, Colby asked me if I wanted to go to the club with everyone else and…"

"Who the fuck is Colby?" he asked as he scrunched his brows. He didn't intend to sound angry or jealous, but he was afraid his remark came off that way.

"Colby… Seth Rollins… you know the guy from The Shield?"

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled, "I don't know. That's not really my scene."

She fiddled with the drawing instruments in her hands before she looked up to meet his eyes, "I heard everyone's going to be there. I think you should come; it'll be fun and if anything, we both can be awkward together."

Randy's eyes brightened as a smile turned up at the corner of his lips, "Deal."

* * *

Laid out in front of him were two nearly identical shirts – inky black and charcoal grey. Dressed only in a pair of dark-washed jeans, Randy stood over and debated his options. He paced the room and checked the clock; it was a quarter past midnight. He was sure everyone was already at the club nursing their fourth or fifth drink.

Choosing the grey shirt, he picked it up and slipped it over his head. The door slammed. He jerked his head around and his heart stopped. Stephanie was now standing in his hotel room.

"What are you doing here?"

Stephanie furrowed her brows. Strange, he was asking her that question when he should have known her intention. She walked towards him, her fingers trailing along the collar of his freshly pressed shirt. Taking note of the watch on his wrist and the shoes on his feet, Stephanie cast him a curious look.

"Where are you going at this time of the night?"

"Out," he answered vaguely. She couldn't tell if the disinterest in his voice was about where he was heading or if it was directed towards her. Stephanie pouted, sitting on the bed. She pulled on his arms so he was standing at the vee formed by her parted legs.

"Don't you want to mess around instead?"

Randy arched a brow, raking his eyes over the vixen in his bed. Stephanie was wearing a trench coat with a pair of pointy black stilettos. From his vantage point, he could see the dark shadows of her cleavage disappear deep into the coat. Was she even wearing anything underneath?

Licking his lips in lust, he wanted to untie the belt around her waist and let her have her way with him. He saw the dark look in her eyes and felt the intensified dig of her fingernails on his arm. His jaw tensed as he remembered his commitments. The image of her cornflower hair and sweet, honey smile invade his thoughts, and suddenly it was as if Stephanie wasn't in the room trying to seduce him.

"I really need to go."

Dejected and rejected, Stephanie stood up and tightened the belt around her waist. She haunched up the collar and flipped her wavy locks away from her face. "Where would you be going at this time anyway, and I don't want some vague, nondescript answer?"

She was serious in the way her eyes burned and the way her skin tingled just before she sent one of her signature slaps to someone's face. Randy knew better than to get her to that point. She slapped him a lot… in bed… but that was totally different.

"I'm going out to the club with the guys." It was the truth with one major part omitted – that it was her stepdaughter's invitation that had convinced him.

"You don't go out with," she said as she mimicked air quotes with her fingers, "the guys. What's really going on here?"

"Do I really have to explain myself to you?" he scoffed, pulling his shoes out of his suitcase. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to tie his laces when he felt the sharp point of her heel press on his thigh.

Randy rolled his eyes and met her glare.

"May I remind you that you are at my beck and call, Randal Orton," she dug her heel deeper into the heavenly thighs she loved to nip and bite, "I own you."

Randy chuckled, pushing her leg off him. He knew what Stephanie was trying to do. She thought she could just stroll in whenever she pleased and get the release she so craved from him. And maybe it had worked in the past. Had this been any other night, his balls would have filled and his cock would have strained at that little stunt, but he just wasn't in the mood to be dominated tonight.

Stephanie stared at him with shock washing over her face. Never, not in the last year they had been sleeping together, had he ever refused a fuck. This was new for him and she didn't like it at all. Stephanie was determined to get to the bottom of this before, god forbid, she lost control over her lover.


End file.
